


The Jacket

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Clothes Sharing, Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hermione left her jacket when she stormed from the manor.





	The Jacket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubikanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubikanon/gifts).



> written for the Cissamione discord. Not beta read. Just Grammarly.

In the heat of the moment, words were weapons, merely a tool of disposal, to carve a victory—something she’d long learned from her parents and of course her eldest sister Bellatrix. But this? This had gone too far. Hermione glanced up at her with fury she could only describe as Gryffindor. Her eyes narrowed, but it forced that one single tear to spill.

Narcissa inhaled, her lungs expanding painfully, a pure distraction from the sting of words on her tongue. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, and so were Hermione’s. She didn’t even remember what they were arguing about. She blinked, and Hermione was out the door. Narcissa waltzed to a window and watched the girl apparate from the gardens. Her heart clenched at sight, and breathing became thin, but she forced the air into her lungs anyway.

She walked back to her seat in the great room, glancing about, waiting for an elf to bring her firewhiskey when she noticed a burgundy blazer strung across the opposite sofa. Narcissa inspected it under her fingers. Rough but not too irritable of a piece of fabric, cat hair littering it, and the faint smell of the perfume she’d bought Hermione lingered faintly on the threads. She held it to her chest for a moment, but then threw it back down on the furniture, a frustration spiking in her.

She watched the door. She knew Hermione would be too stubborn to come back, not now, not with how much Narcissa wished she would. Hermione was ruthless like that, and it hurt and reminded her of her dead sister. Narcissa took the jacket to her room and hung it up as a reminder, to not let arguments get that far again.

* * *

She’d worn this blazer for days in public and private, and burgundy wasn’t exactly her color. It was too warm for her cool skin undertones. Someone bumped into her shoulder as she walked down the street of Diagon Alley. She threw them a pointed glare that immediately widened into shock.

“Hermione,” she forced herself to say gracefully.

“Narcissa,” came the reply.

She removed her hands from the blazer and took it off. “You left this at the manor.” She handed it to her, and Hermione just looked between it and her.

Finally, she took it, brushing fingers with Narcissa’s, and both let the touch linger too long. Narcissa looked away first, and continued walking, unable to find a voice.


End file.
